


one love, two mouths

by dicksargents (BlondeTate)



Series: your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, Vaginal Fingering, this is just gansey worshipping blue's body because why the fuck not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:45:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6478036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlondeTate/pseuds/dicksargents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God.” It comes out strangled, struggling. Blue has never heard anyone sounding like that. She has never heard anything more attractive. “You’re wet.” He says this in wonder like it's magical, unexpected, something to marvel at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one love, two mouths

Blue’s not malicious enough to deny that, all in all, Orla can be useful at times. Not very often, mind you, but sometimes. Like when she pulls her head out of her ass long enough to pay attention to other people. Like when she decides to inform Blue that curses are usually not straightforward or without loopholes. Like when she nudges her out the door with a wink and tells her to enjoy herself.

Blue supposes she could tolerate her then. Since she did tell her that her curse wasn’t Gansey’s curse and Gansey’s lips weren’t deadly lips. She could appreciate that.

Gansey hasn’t stopped kissing her. Not that she minds. She minds, however, her own inability to return those kisses but that desire is tucked away in a quiet corner of her mind for now, and Gansey, for his part, doesn’t seem to care at all. He's too preoccupied with making her moan, making her writhe against him. His lips are everywhere she allows it to be, his eyes always asking her the same question before moving on to a different body part.

_Can I?_

Her answer is yes. It's always yes. Blue doesn’t think she wants him to stop at all.

She watches him worship her body for as long as she can because the sight makes her dangerously desperate and she has to look away. The cobwebs and dull white paint of Monmouth's ceiling are only so interesting though, and soon her eyes flutter back to where his head is pressed against her tummy. Late afternoon sunlight filters through the dusky windows, painting this golden boy in a golden glow which is far too fitting for him. Blue runs her hands through his hair, messes it up, tugs him against her flesh. She's slightly awestruck by the sigh it pulls from his lips, by the image of his head buried in her skin. She wonders what it would look like to see him crawl lower on her body.

Blue closes her eyes against the image and bites down on her lip just as Gansey sinks his teeth into the skin of her stomach, and oh, - her hips hitch, _God, that felt good._ He immediately soothes the burn with his warm wet tongue, and she gasps. Gansey's answer is a small, proud noise. She can feel a smirk playing on his lips and she would be annoyed but - it felt like a victory when he, too, groaned. So she doesn't mind. She liked that sound, she wishes he would make it again. She wishes he would touch her more brazenly.

Gansey has tugged her handmade dress off her long ago. What remains is her underwear and socks. Her legs are splayed on either side of him, curling around his waist, and she wants more. She wants his hands, playing at the ends of her knee socks, to touch more of her. She wants his mouth, pressed against her stomach in a feverish rhythm, to kiss more of her.

“Gansey,” she rasps in a weak voice, almost too quiet to be heard, but he looks up at her immediately and their eyes lock. A strand of brown hair has fallen into his dark yes, his mouth slightly ajar, and he's waiting - waiting for her guidance, waiting for her to say something, waiting, looking. Blue almost can’t stand to see the desire in his eyes which speaks of far more than just primitive lust. There's dedication, awe, a deep-burning longing to have all of her and not just this - good morning kisses, holding hands in the car, date nights they wouldn’t have to keep a secret. Blue knows, she wants all of that too. But this is enough for now.

Gansey breaks eye contact to watch the line of her throat move as she swallows her desire, and the way he crawls up her body and kisses her throat is pure instinct. Even before he moved, she was already grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him up and closer to her. Closer, closer still. She would pull him closer until he was crushed against her body, sewn tightly to her, transformed to be worn as a second skin.

But, pitifully, he's still wearing his shirt, and the fabric of his clothing is just not the same as skin against skin. That's what she wants - what she needs - the most in that moment. As she tilts her head to give Gansey better access to her neck, she works on getting it.

He's still relentlessly trying to touch every inch of her body with his lips - he nibbles on her throat, pulls at the skin with his teeth, kisses a line down her neck to her collarbone and teases her there with his tongue. Blue whines, _“Gansey,”_ and tugs at his shirt rather impatiently until he finds it in himself to break away and help her get rid of it.

_And wow,_ Blue marvels as Gansey kneels before her on the bed, _crew had certainly done him good._ Impressive arm muscles, that much she already knew, and impressive, toned abs too. Her mouth goes dry at the sight. She lets herself eye him hungrily, unabashed and unfaltering until her eyes drift down to his pants - most importantly, the bulge in his pants. Immediately, she flushes scarlet red, and looks only for a second before awkwardly glancing away - but her heart is thundering, her clit is soaked and throbbing, and she, well, Gansey is hard and all she can think about is touching him. She feels hot all over - in her flaming cheeks, in the pit of her stomach, between her legs. She can hear the strain in her own breathing and knows for sure Gansey can, too.

Gansey clears his throat and whispers, his voice hoarse in the most attractive way, “Maybe we should stop. Before, -” Blue glances back at him and he falters as their eyes lock once more. He's struggling for words, unsure. His blush matches hers and Blue imagines herself kissing it, softly, innocently, before moving down to his neck to leave sucking kisses there, licking the line of his throat, sinking her teeth into his veins. The kind of things that would make him moan and leave him redder in the cheeks. She imagines the sounds he would make. She presses her legs together and Gansey's watchful eyes miss nothing.

He continues, slightly gasping, “Before we can’t turn back anymore.”

Blue lies still for a second before she shakes her head. “No.”

She sits on her knees, close to Gansey. Her hands wind around his neck, holding his gaze. Their chests press together. Blue is having trouble breathing but she leans forward, hovering her mouth over his - careful, always very careful that they don’t touch - and makes it even more difficult for herself to breathe. She sucks in his air and replaces it with her own. She never breaks eye contact.

Then, slowly, she slips her hand down to his lower abdomen, watches as he inhales sharply and releases it in a trembling gasp. He's so warm under her palm and so alive in front of her - it's impossible to imagine a time he wouldn’t be. How could her kiss ever suck the life out of someone so vibrantly alive, how could her mouth kill someone she wants - _loves_ , but she dares not think that yet - so desperately?

High on adrenalin, want, their proximity, Blue is brave enough to be a little more bold than normally. She pulls her lips back so they don’t touch any inch of him but her teeth closes down on his lower lip and tugs. This is possibly the closest they've ever gotten to a real kiss, and Blue is shaking and Gansey lets out a helpless whine. In the back of her mind, she wonders if she's trying to seduce him.

“Do you want to stop?” she asks, her voice clear and confident despite her wild and pulsing need for him. Gansey, as if transfixed, shakes his head without hesitation. Blue’s lips turn up in a sly smile.

“Good.”

* * *

 

Blue isn’t sure how much time has passed but they're no less clothed than before and no less hungry for each other. It's a game of pushing and pulling, touching and teasing. She's wrapped up in him, living in his smile, in the easy way he draws all kinds of different noises from her mouth. Sounds she would have been, under normal circumstances, embarrassed about.

Blue is now on top, straddling Gansey’s waist, and the way he's looking at her... it pulls the breath from her lungs. It's a look of someone who would willingly lay down his life for her if she asked. And she could ask, she could take, she could kiss, and he would go along with it.

Blue releases a shuddering breath. For a moment, she pauses to etch his expression into her memory for safekeeping then shakes herself out of it - what she needs right now is less emotions and more sexy time.

Confidently, she reaches up behind her back, fiddling with her bra clasp. “Do you want,” she asks, the question unfinished but Gansey understands.

“Please,” he breathes and waits patiently as she first unclasps her bra then slowly lets it fall away from her chest. “Jesus. Jesus, Blue,” he gasps, a prayer on his lips.

She isn’t as horribly self-conscious as she imagined she would be in this moment but the longer he looks and only looks, the more nervous she feels. The feeling quickly transforms into impatient frustration.

“Gansey,” she warns, a little testy, “I didn’t take it off so you could stare at me.”

Gansey’s eyes flash to hers and analyzes her expression for a moment before his lips slowly spread into a smug smile. She has no idea what he's feeling so smug about but it stops mattering when he pulls himself up so they're both sitting - Gansey on the bed, Blue in his lap - and she can feel him, hard, against her naked thigh. Gansey’s hand travels up her side, kneading her breasts, twisting her nipples, sighing against her skin as he places small and soft kisses between the valley of her breasts. Blue’s eyes flutter closed. Her hands cradle his head and tangle in his hair. She gives an experimental roll of her hips and revels in the hoarse, throaty moan it earns her. Soon, he captures one of her nipples in his mouth while he thrusts his hips back up against hers, his hand wandering down to hold onto her waist.

“Ohhh,” Blue sighs her approval, eyes still closed, and now mouth slightly ajar, head tilted back, _“yes.”_

“Blue,” Gansey mumbles with heated dedication, and just the sound of her name falling from his lips sets her skin on fire. It's beautiful and rare to hear him use her birth name - Blue wants yet more.

She can’t help begging, “Say that again.”

“What?” Gansey pulls away just for a second to glance up at her behind hooded eyelids. “Blue?” he questions, and when she whimpers a response, he grins. He kisses her nipples again and says her name, a lover’s whisper in her ear. He kisses down her stomach and punctuates each press of his lips with that one magical syllable.

His hand inches up her thigh, his fingertips barely there - smooth and soft, the product of never having to work a day in his life. Slowly, he pushes her until she falls back on the bed, with Gansey once again on top of her, and his mouth just above her panties. Her legs twitch and curl around his back, then abruptly tighten as he swirls his tongue in her bellybutton and licks a straight line up her stomach. Blue cries out his name, arches up against his mouth, both actions an unspoken plea for more.

“Gansey,” she pants, then lets out a groan of both pleasure and frustration as he tries to suck her nipple between his teeth again. She swats him away and tries to push his head down. “I need your face lower.”

She barely even feels embarrassed of that breathy, desperate command but could kneel him in the groin when he chuckles, completely unmoved.

“Patience, Blue,” he tells her, giving her name extra stress. Somewhere beneath the feverish needy fog in her brain, she could tell she would later regret letting him know the power he has over her just by speaking her name.

“Do you want this or not?” she snaps and immediately regrets it because that sounded like a challenge and she wasn’t trying to challenge or provoke him or prolong this teasing. _She_ definitely wants this and if he doesn’t, well. She could get herself off later and cry his name into her pillow to muffle the sounds but that wouldn’t be the same. Not when he’s worked her up to the point of desperation and now she's aching to be touched by him, to be kissed by him, to be - fuck.

To be eaten out by him.

“Shhh,” Gansey says. She wants to slap him; she wants to smash her lips against his. But his fingers do begin to skim the edge of her panties, and Blue supposes she could compromise.

Gansey attacks her neck again while he hooks his fingers into her panties, and Blue tells him, impatient, “Take it off.”

She wedges a hand between them to explore his abs, feeling the taut muscles under her palm, and the way his chest rises and falls with his quickly beating heart. Her nails leave angry red scratches all along his back, the sting occasionally making him hiss. Blue almost feels like she could come from the sound alone and the knowledge that she's the one making him feel like this.

Gansey completely ignores her request and tries to take things at his own pace but Blue isn’t one to sit still and do nothing - with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, she pushes her hips up and begins to rub against him slowly. Biting down on his earlobe earns her a low growl, the sound spurring her on. She ghosts her hand above his erection - fleeting, playful - then returns to his chest and plays with a nipple, wondering what it would be like to suck on it, on his neck, on his cock.

When he finally tugs her panties down to her ankles, Blue is quick to catch his wrist and guide his hand between her legs. She's unashamed of the way she presses his hand against her clit, the warm and soft touch making her breath hitch with want. No one - other than herself - has touched her like this. It's new but not entirely foreign and so much better. Her world bursts into flames and she realizes she's whimpering, quiet small pleading sounds. In a foolish moment, she has an equally foolish thought - that she doesn’t want anyone else to touch her like this again. Gansey is her finish line, her once in a lifetime. Gansey is it, and not even because some curse told her so.

The moment passes and she reminds herself that he's going to die and they're teenagers. It's stupid to think such things.

Gansey breathes in evenly through his nose as he stares at her and doesn’t move his hand.

“God.” It comes out strangled, struggling. Blue has never heard anyone sounding like that. She has never heard anything more attractive. “You’re wet.” He says this in wonder like it's magical, unexpected, something to marvel at.

Blue arches an eyebrow at him that says,  _“Really, what did you think?_ _”_ but merely says, “Are you going to do something about that?”

He nods dumbly and Blue laughs at him. So much for his easy boldness and confidence. Her hand slips to his belt buckle and clumsily works on undoing it while she waits for Gansey to get his bearings. She's pulsing against his hand and she has to fight not to push her hips up in a desperate needy move. He pulls himself together enough to return to worshiping her body - his mouth at the crook of her neck, then on her collarbone, on her ribs, leisurely making his way to her lower abdomen. He slowly pushes one digit inside her and Blue’s fumbling with his pants falters then continues weakly.

He moves his finger at an agonizing pace; he's touching her but it's not nearly enough. And he knows, the bastard knows, because he smiles when she whines her complainants, and lazily, as if it's an afterthought, adds another finger. His tongue is leaving wet trails on her body, dipping into her bellybutton, and sucking on her skin, while he slowly works her up to an orgasm with the push and pull of his fingers inside her. She still wants more, she wants his tongue inside her, but she's sensitive to his touch and gradually unraveling. The warm pressure of his mouth is too much. His fingers are too much. She's moaning quietly and arching her hips to match his movements. He keeps kissing her while he fingers her, faster now and picking up his pace, going deeper every time. Then he curls them inside her, delicious and stretching, and she knows she's going to come but this is not how she wanted it.

“Gansey,” she pleads, not really sure if she's asking for more or less. She still wants to see him between her thighs, still wants his mouth on her clit, but oh -

“Shhh,” he tells her again, so calm and soothing. Her mouth is open but she can't speak, lost in this feeling. Gansey increases his efforts, doubles his pace, and when he asks her quietly, and almost humbly, to, “Please come, Blue, come for me,” she can’t stop her body from complying.

Her orgasm is slow and more intense than anything she’s ever known at her own hands. She knows nothing but his steady grip on her waist, his lips on her stomach. He keeps his fingers inside her while she spasms and murmurs her name gently again and again, like a man who’s found his faith. The rest of the world falls away.

After she slowly blinks her eyes open once more, she smiles at him, and it's a bit too lovesick but she doesn't care. He barely returns it before sliding lower on the bed and nudging her legs apart, and she barely registers what he's doing before his mouth is between her legs.

Finally.


End file.
